


To love is not to leave

by justhockey



Series: Sing To Me Instead [7]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Injury, M/M, VERY VERY mild sexual content, and I love Morgan more than life itself, i really missed Jake when he was hurt, so here you go, sorry - Freeform, this is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: Morgan thinks his heart is breaking, he could probably hear it crack if Jake wasn’t crying so loud.“It’s okay, you’re okay, everything is fine,” Morgan whispers into Jake’s hair.





	To love is not to leave

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Run Away_ by Ben Platt.

The team dynamic is somehow completely different _and_ the exact same. Like, Zach and Willy, and Mitch and Auston are dating now. Which. Who’d have thought one NHL team would have so many queer players? But to be fair, if anyone would have asked Morgan _before_ the guys came out, who would be most likely to get together, it would have definitely been those four. Like, _seriously_. They’ve always been disgustingly obsessed with each other. 

And like, nothing is really _different_ per say, because Willy and Mitch have always been overly affectionate and clingy, it’s just that now it’s mostly focused on their respective partners. _Mostly_. Mitch and Auston have been ridiculously codependent since day one so nothing has changed there, and Willy has always kind of relied on Zach to keep him grounded and tell him when he’s pushing the boundaries with, well, _everyone_.

So, things are the same. 

But also, they’re not. 

The Leafs have always had an insanely large following, being one of the original six and based in arguably one of the biggest hockey cities in the world. But now it’s a whole new ball park. Because not only do they have the regular fans and media, but now that Zach and Willy are out, they have extra eyes on them in the form of lgbtq+ organisations and fans, _and_ the mainstream media. It feels like they’re being watched more closely than any other team in the league. Hell, it feels like they’re being watched more closely than any team, in any _league_ , in any _sport_ right now. It’s a lot.

Plus, it’s a little disconcerting sometimes, when he sees Mitch drowning in a too-big t-shirt or hoodie with a 34 stretched across his back, or Willy wearing a chain with a small, silver _11_ hanging from it (Morgan will never admit how adorable he actually finds that). And he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, obviously. Morgan loves his team so much, and he’s beyond proud of them for being who are they are. 

(He’s had few moments in life that were worse than when everyone thought he’d yelled a slur during that Tampa game. The team had had his back almost instantly, but nothing stung more than the way Willy had looked at him with tears in his eyes and whispered _you didn’t really say that, did you?_.)

It’s just a lot sometimes, is the point. He’s almost certainly guaranteed the _C_ next year, and even if it’s not official, the media often look at him and talk to him like he’s already the leader. It’s a lot of pressure, and a lot of eyes on the team. He can’t even _imagine_ what it would be like if Auston and Mitch came out too. 

And maybe he’s a little jealous. But that’s neither here nor there. Don’t bring it up. _Please_. 

*

When he gets back from lunch with Freddie, Enzo and Nic, the apartment he shares with Gards appears to be empty. He kicks his shoes off at the door and toes them into a neat line so he won’t get yelled at by Jake. He might be the team dad but when it comes to being at home, Jake is absolutely the one who makes sure the place stays at least half way tidy. Mo appreciates it (he appreciates everything about Jake, _whatever_ ) because the younger guys have a habit of dropping by unannounced all the time, and he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when telling them to clean up after themselves if their place was ever messy. 

He’s making his way past Jake’s room and towards his own bedroom when he hears a groan. And, not like a sex groan. Which. He doesn’t wanna hear _that_ either, if he’s honest. But. It would be preferable to the holy-shit-I’m-in-pain kind of noise that makes it’s way out of Gards room. He squeezes his eyes shut and hesitates for a second, before taking a step backwards and knocking on the door. 

They’ve lived and played together for so long that privacy basically doesn’t even exist between them at this point, they’ve seen each other stark naked more times than Morgan would like to dwell on. So after knocking twice, Morgan turns the door handle and pushed it open. He’s squinting as he looks in the room, as if not being able to see what’s happening will somehow make it go away. 

“Gards?” Morgan says. 

Jake is lying on top of the bed, still wearing the clothes he’d left practice in, and barely moving. In fact, when he tries to move to look at Mo, he lets out another pained moan. 

“ _Fuck_ Jake, what happened?” Morgan asks, walking further into the room. 

He doesn’t remember Gards taking a particularly hard hit at practice, and he’d looked okay in the game last night, so he’s not sure when he could have gotten hurt. 

“Hey,” Jake replies, trying to laugh but it comes out kind of strangled. 

“When the fuck did this happen?” Morgan asks, moving forwards and reaching out his hands to help sit him up. 

Jake is panting once he manages to sit up with Morgan’s help. There’s a faint gleam of sweat on his forehead and Mo can tell he’s in a significant amount of pain. Fuck. 

“It’s nothing,” Jake replies, offering Mo a grin. 

Morgan rolls his eyes because, clearly fucking _not_ , Jake. They’re only a few months away from the playoffs and they’re still fighting to clinch a spot, so Jake _can’t_ be hurt. Also, like. Morgan hates seeing Jake in pain. He’d rather be in pain _himself_ than have Jake hurting. Whatever. 

“It’s not fucking nothing you idiot, what did you do?”

Jake goes kind of pale then. And not the painful kind, but more the _shit I did something wrong_ kind. He looks at his feet to avoid Mo’s eyes. Morgan can’t help but notice that he’d not even managed to take his shoes off, so yeah. It’s bad. 

“Jake I swear to _god_ ,” Morgan groans, pushing his hands through his hair as he starts to get frustrated. 

“I just, like, tweaked it the other week, it’s fine, it’s nothing.”

Morgan blanches. 

“The other _week?_ ” Morgan hisses through gritted teeth. 

And like, he’s not mad really. Okay, he is. But not about the game. Because yes hockey is very very important, but. Jake is _more_ important. And he’s playing injured, which everyone knows is never a good idea. Playing injured can mean risking your career. 

Jake refuses to meet his eyes, “I just though if I kept playing it would loosen up,” he confesses. 

“Jesus Christ,” Morgan sighs as he sits down next to Jake on his bed. 

Morgan knows Jake has been under a lot of pressure lately, what with the fans - and he uses that term _very_ lightly - booing him, and becoming an unrestricted free agent at the end of the season. So Morgan understands that he’d been wanting to play his best, not to take any time off, but _fuck_. This could be bad. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake says, and his voice sounds sad it hurts Morgan’s heart a little. 

Morgan shakes his head, “Why would you do this so close to the end of the season?”

“I didn’t wanna let the team down, didn’t wanna let _you_ down.”

They’ve been best friends since Morgan was drafted in 2012. They got a place together at the beginning of their first season together, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. The entire team jokes that they’re married, that Mo is team dad and Gards is team mum. And like, Morgan loves that, even though he rolls his eyes whenever they bring it up. He _always_ wants to make Jake proud, so he _gets_ it. He does. But nothing is worth sacrificing your health for. 

“Jake, you’re injured, you can’t help it. You’re not gonna let _anyone_ down,” Morgan tries to reassure him. 

Jake just shrugs his shoulders. He looks close to tears, and whether it’s from the pain or the worry, Morgan doesn’t know, but either way it makes him want to cry too. Because god, Jake is his everything. They’ve only ever been friends, only ever will be, but that doesn’t change how much Morgan loves him. Seeing him like this, it’s hell. 

“Come on,” Morgan says, standing up and holding out his hands to help Jake up too. 

“Where are we going?” Jake asks, placing his palms against Morgan’s and allowing himself to be pulled up. 

“Team doctor.”

“No.”

“Jake-“

“They’ll stop me from playing, I can’t risk that then when my contract is gonna be up, Mo,” Jake tries to argue, tugging his hands out of Morgan’s. 

“Gards, you’re seeing the fucking doctor. I’m not letting you play injured.”

And no one can really say no when Morgan uses his captains voice, so that’s how he finds himself waiting around outside the doctors office at the rink. 

Jake had already been in there for over half an hour, and Mo was starting to get antsy. He knew it was unlikely that Jake was gonna be cleared to play, that he’d probably be on IR for at least a few games. He also knew Jake was gonna be mad as hell at him for making him disclose his injury. But that was Morgan’s job as his, his - friend. Yeah. His best friend. 

He jumps up from his seat when the door opens. He can tell immediately by the look on Jake’s face that it’s bad news, and he winces in anticipation. 

“So?”

“Can’t play.”

“How long?” Morgan asks, then holds his breath. 

“ _Week to week_ ,” Jake mutters bitterly. 

Ah fuck. 

*

Jake has been out for almost three weeks, and it’s. Hard. He’s not even allowed on the ice with a no-contact jersey, so eventually he’d just stopped going to practices. He shows up for his meetings with the doctor and the trainer, then he leaves right after his work out. They’d even started driving in separate cars so he didn’t have to wait around for Morgan. 

Morgan feels slightly better that Gards has got Travis off alongside him (which is _dreadful_ for the team), but still. Jake is pulling away from him and he hates it. He knows what it’s like to be injured, knows it’s frustrating and painful and hell to watch your friends and teammates on the ice when you can’t be. But it’s what Jake needs. The docs aren’t keeping him off the ice for the fun of it, _Jesus._ They’re playing _so bad_. Like, it’s embarrassing. They need both him and Trav back, but they’re hurt and need time to heal. 

It makes it worse that Morgan was the one to force Jake into the doctors office. It’s like Jake blames Morgan. Which, again, he understands. He knows he’s not _really_ mad at him, just frustrated that he can’t play. And if it was any other teammate he’d be fine, it wouldn’t sting as much, but this is _Jake_ , and having him mad at Morgan hurts like a stick to the face. 

“Sure you don’t wanna come with?” Morgan asks as he slings his bag over his shoulder. 

It’s an optional skate, and Jake doesn’t have any appointments so he’s not even going to the rink. 

“Nah, I’ll see you later,” Jake replies, not even looking him up from his phone. 

Morgan takes a breath so he doesn’t snap. He’s trying to be understanding, but weeks of this is starting to wear his patience a little thin. 

“Alright bud, see you later. Text if you need me.”

Then he leaves, heads to practice like normal - though the journey is quieter than it used to be with Jake by his side. He gets through every drill Babs throws at them, which is kind of a miracle really. His mind is back home, on Jake, so he figures muscle memory is what gets him through the practice without fucking up too badly and getting screamed at. 

He figures he’s done a good job of hiding his worries when no one asks him what’s wrong throughout the whole practice. He’s kind of proud, really. He always gets told he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

They’re back in the locker room after a gruelling two hours, and Morgan is halfway out of his gear when someone finally decides to mention. 

“Oi, Mo!” Kappy calls from across the locker room. “What’s up, bro? You’ve got your head up your ass today.”

The room laughs a little, but not as much as they normally do at the expense of a teammate. Clearly Morgan hadn’t been masking his worry as well as he thought he had. 

“It’s just Jake. I’m starting to worry,” Morgan confesses. 

“Is he okay?” Patty asks, leaning forwards and swatting Mitch out of the way so he can see Morgan properly. 

Morgan shrugs, “I don’t think so. He’s not watching practices, he’s moody as fuck, he’s barely even talking to me.”

The room is quiet for a moment while they digest what Morgan said. The stereotype that hockey players are emotionally repressed is absolutely true when it comes to themselves. But when it comes to their teammates? _Everyone_ is a therapist. 

“Being injured’ll do that to you,” Muzzin calls out. 

“I know but he’s been injured before, and I’ve never seen him like this.” Morgan pauses and runs a hand through his hair before continuing, “How’s he been when talking to you lot?” He asks no one in particular. 

The room is silent for a minute while everyone glances at each other, until Zach finally speaks up. 

“He’s not been replying to mine or Willy’s messages,” he admits. 

“Yeah, me too,” Zaitsev agrees. 

Morgan swears under his breath. He needs to talk to Jake, like, now. But he needs a shower first. 

*

When Morgan walks through the door he’s ready to kick _off_. It’s one thing for Jake to blame and ignore him, but to ghost the rest of the team? That is _not_ on. And Morgan is more than ready to let Jake have it. 

But when his eyes fall on Jake, every bit of anger he’s feeling just fades away. 

He’s trying to brush the tears off his cheeks and hide the tissues he’d been crying into, but even if he’d managed his eyes were still red and puffy, with unshed tears glistening in them. Morgan just, like, _breaks_. He rushes forward to sit beside Jake, and without saying a word, without even _thinking_ , Morgan just pulls him into his arms and holds tight. 

Jake tries to fight at first, tries to push Morgan off and escape, but Morgan doesn’t let him. He just holds on tight until Jake caves. His body slumps against Morgan’s and he cries. His entire body is shaking as he sobs into Morgan’s shoulder, and all Mo can do is trace patterns against the skin of his lower back, run his fingers through Jake’s hair, and murmur words of comfort until he starts to calm down. 

Morgan thinks his heart is breaking, he could probably hear it crack if Jake wasn’t crying so loud. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay, everything is fine,” Morgan whispers into Jake’s hair, resisting the instinct to press a kiss there. 

When Jake finally stops crying enough to pull away, Morgan’s t-shirt is soaked with tears and Jake’s eyes are so blood shot he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. It’s a _really_ bad time, but Morgan still thinks he’s beautiful. He lets Jake shift backwards a little, but he keeps a hand firmly gripping onto his knee. He tells himself it’s to comfort Jake, but really it’s Morgan that needs the contact. He’s scared to let go. 

“Jake, what’s going on bud?” Morgan asks, keep his voice gentle. 

Jake just shakes his head and rubs his eyes so hard Morgan _knows_ he’s seeing stars. Morgan uses the hand that isn’t gripping his knee to pull his hands away. Jake’s fingers tighten around Morgan’s, so he squeezes them back and doesn’t let go, just rests their tangled hands on his lap. 

“What if I never play again?” Jake asks, and if the room weren’t completely silent Morgan would have missed it. 

“What?” 

Morgan starts to panic. Had Jake heard from the doctors? Had they told him that?

“I just, it’s like, I _still_ haven’t been cleared, and they’re talking surgery, and what if, what if this is it for me?” His voice shakes as he speaks but he doesn’t look away from Morgan. 

“This is _not_ the end of your career, do you hear me? You’re gonna get back on the ice.” 

Morgan sounds certain, because he is. There’s no way he’s done yet. There’s no way he’s never gonna skate again. Morgan will make sure of it. 

“You don’t _know_ that Morgan, you don’t know! And I, I’m _nothing_ without hockey,” Jake whimpers. 

That stops Morgan in his tracks. Because he knows Jake is hurting, he knows he’s scared, but that is the single biggest lie he’s _ever_ heard. Jake is _everything_ , with or without hockey. And he can’t believe Jake doesn’t know that, can’t believe he hadn’t _made_ Jake know that. 

“Jake, Jake, are you fucking with me?”

Jake’s eyes are wide and earnest and Morgan knows he really believes what he’s saying. If it wouldn’t make everything ten times worse, he’d crash their mouths together, just to show Jake how fucking _special_ he is. 

“That’s bullshit. You’re amazing? You’re the funniest person I’ve ever known - don’t tell Mitch I said that - and you’ve got the biggest fucking heart, okay? Even _without_ hockey, you’re the best person in my life,” Morgan promises, looking directly into eyes and praying Jake believes him. 

“You have to say that,” Jake tries to laugh. “I know I’m being dumb, it’s not like I’m good enough for this team anyway, you wouldn’t miss me out on the ice, but-“ he shrugs and trails off.

Morgan’s heart continues to break apart in his chest. He _knew_ Jake had taken the booing and the criticism to heart, but he’d thought he was over it by now, thought he knew they were just dicks who were full of shit. Morgan can’t actually believe Jake thinks that, and he can’t believe he hadn’t noticed and made Jake understand how valuable he is to their team. 

“Stop, stop it. Jake, seriously, have you fucking seen us out there lately? We’re absolute _shit_ without you, of course we need you!” Morgan says, desperately trying to make him see. 

Jake’s cheeks flush a little, and Morgan thinks he stopped crying long enough ago that it’s probably not that making him blush. He squeezes his hand and his knee at the same time. 

“Listen to me, okay?” Jake nods so he continues. “We need you. And you _are_ going to play again. You are. But even if you _don’t_ , I’m not gonna stop loving you.”

And yeah. That’s not what Morgan meant to say. Like, it really isn’t. At all. Because Jake was _never_ supposed to find out, and _especially_ not like this. But. The way Jake’s eyes light up, the way the blush on his cheeks deepens and he holds Morgan’s hands a little tighter, it lets Morgan think _maybe._

“You love me?” Jake asks. 

His voice is quiet but scratchy, and the way he’s looking at Morgan is like, _really_ overwhelming. He knows Jake doesn’t think he just meant it as teammates or bros, or even best friends. It’s obvious in the way Morgan knows he’s looking at him, and the way Jake is looking back, like he can’t be sure he’s hearing what he thinks he is. Like he’s not sure if it’s real. 

“You must have known,” Morgan replies breathlessly. 

Because he _must_ have. Morgan has been in love with him for years, and while he’s never crossed any boundaries or made anything too obvious, he’s not clueless about how often he stares at Jake. And how often Jake has caught him staring. Morgan is honestly surprised the entire team hasn’t realised how gone he is for Jake. 

“I’d hoped,” Jake replies, a sweet smile on lips. 

And Morgan just fucking dies, or something. He can’t feel his heartbeat it’s going that fast. He’s not sure why this turned into a conversation about them, but he’s _so_ glad that it did. 

“Really?” Morgan asks, sounding like he’s just done a double shift on the PK. 

He can’t believe it. Not really. 

“Of course,” Jake whispers. 

And then they’re kissing. He’s not sure who made the first move, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that he’s kissing Jake Gardiner. His best friend. The guy he’s been in love with since he was a fresh-faced rookie. And it’s everything and more. Jake kisses him with a level of passion and ferocity that he wasn’t sure he was capable of outside the rink, and it’s fucking intoxicating. 

He leans forward more, presses his chest against Jake’s as he grasps at his hair, his shoulders, wherever he can get his hands. He needs _more_. Wants to be touching Jake all over, everywhere, preferably with less clothes. 

He groans into Jake’s mouth at the thought of getting him naked. 

“Bedroom,” Jake murmurs against his lips, as if he’d read Morgan’s mind. 

He wants to. _Fuck_ , he’s never wanted anything more. But -

“Your back, don’t wanna make it worse,” Morgan says. 

Jake laughs a little at that, because only Morgan could be as hard as a rock and _still_ be in captain mode. 

“I’m okay, promise,” Jake says, nipping at Morgan’s lower lip until he’s whimpering. “Please, take me to bed.”

And really, who’s Morgan to refuse?

*

Two weeks later Jake walks into the locker room wearing a red no-contact jersey. Morgan cheers louder than everyone else combined.

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s pretend the timelines match thank you :)


End file.
